


Half-Empty, Half-Full

by Blizzard96



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Inspired by Goblin (K-drama), Magic, Urban Fantasy, might add pairings later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blizzard96/pseuds/Blizzard96
Summary: Dimitri is a goblin with a lance in his chest. El is a grim reaper who is oddly fixated on the owner of the local fish & chips shop. Claude is just trying to understand how the supernatural fits in with his life plan.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 14
Kudos: 149





	1. An Encounter

Against all odds, Dimitri was having what passed for a good day by his standards. He’d just gotten off the phone with Dedue, who had mentioned his own impending return to Faerghus two weeks from that day. Though Dimitri had resolved (many, many times) not to form attachments to humans and their fragile, fleeting lives, Dedue had managed to fall dangerously close to the territory of being considered a friend.

Perhaps it was Dedue’s calm but steadfast demeanor, so reminiscent of his great, great, great grandfather, that at times Dimitri thought the man had been born again hundreds of years later. It wasn’t impossible, but Dimitri thought that not even fate would be so cruel as to condemn the kind soul of Abidugun to return to his side. After all, who would want to return to the service of a cursed immortal goblin?

His chest twinged as it always did when he reminisced too much about the past and, upon looking down, he could see the unforgiving metal grip of the lance he’d once wielded so long ago skewered through his rib cage. He attempted, for probably the millionth time in his too long life, to yank the lance out but it would not budge. He hadn’t truly expected it to.

That was also part of his curse, as if his time spent watching those he loved perish and the world march indifferently past him weren’t sufficient enough. He knew that fate had decreed that the only person capable of removing the weapon from his chest was someone marked by him. The legends had spoke of a bride, “the goblin bride” though that term was a bit outdated, who would release him from his penance, but after many centuries of no one coming close to fitting that description, Dimitri had given up hope of ever being freed from his curse.

He sighed, releasing the lance. A woman passing him on the other side of the sidewalk gave him an odd look, but continued on her way. It was a blessing that that no mortals (aside from the one who would remove it) could see the weapon, allowing Dimitri to keep up a semblance of normalcy.

Dimitri continued on his path home, already mentally listing out the details he needed to send to Dedue regarding the company’s investments, and also planning on lecturing his recent hire, a sharp but careless man named Sylvain who he kept as a personal assistant, when he noticed a tea shop standing on the opposite side of the street.

This wouldn’t have immediately caught his eye had it been a normal store, but this one shimmered with magic, deliberately hidden from prying mortal eyes. It could only mean one thing.

He squinted through the window, making out the figure of a woman with long, silver hair bustling around with a teapot. He couldn’t see her expression with her back to him, but she carried herself confidently. All of her movements were measured, ensuring that no energy was wasted, and she went through the motions with the certainty that routine brought.

“A reaper?” Dimitri said, displeased at the thought of one of the grim messengers of death opening shop in his neighborhood.

As if hearing him, the woman turned to meet Dimitri’s gaze. Her eyes were curious, but cold in a way that made Dimitri feel like a bug under a microscope. “A goblin?” He saw her lips say.

Dimitri immediately broke eye contact and hurried down the street. Though reapers were unpleasant to be around, hopefully this one wouldn’t bother him as long as they stayed out of each other’s way.

A voice in the back of Dimitri’s head whispered, ‘She is familiar.’

* * *

El did not recall her life before becoming a reaper. That was standard and intentional.

“This is a punishment,” a senior reaper named Shamir had told El when she’d first awoken as a guide to the newly deceased. “Reapers are people who committed horrible crimes in their lifetime. We are to show all souls to the next life, but we shall never pass on ourselves.”

“But why must we forget our lives?” El had asked, “How do we atone?”

Shamir had shook her head. “We don’t.”

And now, centuries later, El still fulfilled her duties. Names, places and times would arrive to her shop on plain, white cards, and then El would set out to the location detailed on the card to await the time of death, all the while unseen by the mortals around her.

From there, she would usher the souls (screaming/crying/numb) to her tea shop and make a pot of tea. She would sit down with the soul at a table, a single teacup between them, and present them with an option.

El stared at the soul currently before her, a woman who had died in a car accident when a truck driver had run a red light. “Here,” she slid the cup closer to the woman. The woman did not move to take it. El did not mind as they always took the cup in the end.

“What is it?” The woman asked, staring down at the tea fearfully.

“It will allow you to forget your memories of this life when you are born again,” El explained. “You will be unburdened and able to move on.”

“But I don’t want to forget!” The woman cried, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks, “I don’t want to move on from my family and friends! I don’t want to leave my life! There are still so many things I wanted to do! It’s not fair!”

Life, El had learned from years of ushering souls onward, was rarely fair. Death even less so. She did not voice her thoughts, though. El allowed the woman to scream and cry until she sank down in her chair into wordless sobs. The tea did not grow cold, thankfully, from the magic of the shop.

“Is this truly it?” The woman finally whispered, sniffling.

“It is,” El confirmed.

“Can nothing be done? What if I don’t drink it?”

“Then your next life will be filled with worries from this life. You will be crushed under the weight of your own regrets.” The woman looked at El, probably to determine if she was lying, but when she found nothing but icy truth, she turned to the warmth of the tea instead.

“All I have to do is drink?”

El nodded. “And you will be reborn freely.” 

The woman sighed before hesitantly reaching for the tea cup. She lifted the cup to her lips and drank it all. As soon as she finished, the door to the back of the tea shop swung open, suddenly shining with a soft white light.

“Walk through there,” El said, pointing to the door, “And may you have more luck in your next life.”

The woman stared at the doorway, dazed. “It’s beautiful,” she said as she got up from her seat and walked toward it. The door slammed shut as soon as the soul passed through.

El was left behind in her shop with an empty cup.

* * *

_“Edelgard!” Dimitri bellowed, staring up the long set of stone steps that led to the entrance of the Adrestian palace. The Empress herself stood in front of the building, her eyes cold as she regarded Dimitri. “I have come for your head!”_

_Edelgard threw her crimson red cloak to the side, and lifted her battle axe. “Then come and take it if you can!”_

_With a cry more beast than man, Dimitri charged up the stairs, lance held tight at his side. When he reached the top, he slashed forward at her._

_She blocked it with her own weapon, then twirled to the side. Dimitri ducked. Her axe missed his head by a hair’s breadth. He thrusted with his lance, but she dodged yet again._

_Their deadly dance continued, Dimitri losing track of time in the process. Their weapons met in a shower of sparks before pulling back and clashing again. Eventually his lungs ached and his arms were straining under Edelgard’s heavy blows, but Dimitri could not yield an inch. The ghosts screaming for Edelgard’s blood, her head, wouldn’t let him._

_“Cut off her head and hang it from a pike,” they chanted, “rip off her limbs and drag them behind your horse, drain her blood, run her through-“ At one point Dimitri couldn’t tell how many of the voices were the ghosts and how much were his own words._

_Edelgard’s eyes narrowed as a heavy blow from Dimitri knocked the axe from her hands. It hit the ground with a clang as the voices reached a crescendo. He raised his weapon to finally end the screaming in his head._

_“Now, Bernadetta!” Edelgard yelled, and suddenly an arrow sprouted from Dimitri’s forearm, causing him to involuntarily drop his lance. He bellowed his outrage and grabbed for Edelgard instead, but the injury made his movements clumsy. In one fluid motion, Edelgard had ducked his outstretched arms and grabbed his lance from the ground._

_“Goodbye, King of Delusions,” she said, “May you no longer be haunted by ghosts in your next life.” And then there was only searing pain as his lance was run through his chest._


	2. A Beginning

Dimitri for the third time in as many minutes, resisted the urge to strangle his personal assistant with his bare hands.

“Sylvain,” Dimitri began in a measured tone, “When I left you in charge of my home while I was away on business, this was not what I imagined.”

“To my credit,” Sylvain said, clearly working up his defense as he went and relying more on his charm than any valid reasoning, “You were supposed to leave on another three month long trip tomorrow, and this would have been the perfect way to add to your finances with almost now effort on your part! You barely use this house anyway!”

“But that trip was canceled,” Dimitri said.

Sylvain winced. “Yeah… I didn’t plan for that.”

“That fact that you planned to rent out my rooms at all is the problem.”

“I had the best intentions!” Sylvain argued, “You said to look into all opportunities to make money, and I did!”

“And how much of a cut are you getting from all of this?” Dimitri asked, eyebrow raised.

“A totally negligible amount.” Sylvain waved a hand.

“But not zero,” Dimitri sighed. “Let me guess, they’ve already signed a contract for the next few months, and we could be in serious legal trouble if we go back on it.”

“And they’ve payed the first month’s rent,” Sylvain added, digging his hole that much deeper. He managed to look apologetic when Dimitri’s frown deepened.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Sylvain said finally, running hand through his unruly, red hair. “I really didn’t think you’d have to worry about this.”

Dimitri exhaled heavily. “Despite everything, I believe that part.” Sylvain might have been tiring to deal with at times (not to mention the numerous occasions Dimitri had received complaints from female employees regarding the man’s flirtatious advances), but at the end of the day he was a reliable man who had never made Dimitri feel that his trust in him was misplaced.

“So… you’re good with it?” Sylvain asked hopefully.

“That’s not necessarily the word I’d use, but let me at least meet the other person first, and then we’ll see.”

“Yeah, sure! No problem! In fact, they should be moving in-“

“Don’t say today,” Dimitri begged. Sylvain’s mouth shut with a click. “Gods.” He felt like banging his head against a wall, professionalism in front of his employee be damned. As if on cue, the doorbell rang throughout the house. Both of their heads snapped up as they turned to the front door. “Is that the new… renter?”

Sylvain pulled out his phone and glanced at the time displayed. “Should be.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket and bounded toward the door.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Dimitri said. Sylvain swung the front door open with an extra flourish.

“Welcome!” he exclaimed.

As soon as Dimitri’s eyes landed on the woman standing in the doorway, the lance in his chest began to send shocks throughout his body. It was like he was burning up and freezing all at once. He clutched at the center of his chest with one hand, and the other slammed down on the table he was next to, nearly cracking the wooden top in half. It was the grim reaper from before. Dimitri wondered briefly if the lance’s reaction was due to the other being another supernatural being, but he quickly dismissed the thought as he’d come into contact with other reapers in the past.

The woman at the entrance stared guardedly at him, her stern expression giving away nothing. Her face felt so familiar to Dimitri, something beyond just seeing her on the street earlier. Every time Dimitri tried to reach for that shared link though, it wafted away like dandelion seeds in the wind.

“Dimitri!” Sylvain said, smiling a slight bit too wide for it to be completely genuine, “This is your new renter, El!”

“Hello,” El said neutrally, the narrowing of her eyes being the only sign that she had recognized him from the tea shop. “I hope we can get along.”

* * *

Byleth supposed that working in a fish & chips shop wasn’t the worst thing they could be doing with their life. They had always expected to work there anyway, what with their father Jeralt being the restaurant owner. They guessed they should be content. It was just that with Jeralt constantly traveling back and forth between the store and the chain’s headquarters, Byleth was usually left on their own to run things, which was a pretty big responsibility for someone their age.

The shop was right off a college campus, meaning that most of the customers ended up being just as old as, if not older than, Byleth. Sometimes they wondered what their life would be like if they’d grown up in different circumstances. Would they have attended the same college that they watched from afar? Would they have a group of friends like the kind who would enter their store and set up at tables to chat for hours? They usually shook themselves out of such imaginings quickly. There was no use dwelling on things that didn’t or wouldn’t happen.

“The order is up!” Byleth snapped out of their daze at the register to see one of her employees, a bright and enthusiastic girl named Petra, handing her a slip of paper with a table’s order in neat handwriting.

Petra was one of the restaurant’s best employees, hard working and loyal to a fault. She was an exchange student studying on the nearby campus, and she’d shown up at the shop one day desperate for a job.

“I am not supposed to be having a job,” Petra admitted, “But I am needing the money to be paying for tuition.” Byleth had nodded then, and her father had pretended not to notice when Petra was listed under a different name on the employee records. The girl from Brigid had proven her worth five times over. Byleth knew that Petra, with her eager and dedicated attitude, would be successful whenever she graduated. The other employees however…

“TABLE FIVE!” Caspar bellowed, nearly blowing out Byleth’s eardrums as he placed a steaming basket of fish & chips in the window between the kitchen and front counter. Petra immediately whisked the food away.

“I-I’m sorry!” Bernadetta stuttered as she nearly collided with Byleth, her arms full of empty plastic baskets, plates, and silverware. Byleth tried not to sigh. Caspar and Bernadetta were also college students from the university, though they worked at the shop for vastly different reasons.

Caspar was the second son of his family, and all of his parents money had gone to paying his older brother’s tuition, leaving Caspar to fend for himself to cover his student loans. As for Bernadetta, apparently her father worked in a very prominent position on campus (and was a very harsh man from what Byleth had heard), which left the girl scrambling for any excuse to spend time away from him.

When they had applied at the shop, Byleth had hired them partially out of sympathy. They were both efficient workers when they tried to be, it was just that their attitudes could occasionally be overwhelming. Byleth had lost track of times that Caspar had nearly picked a fight with a customer, or times when Bernadetta had run out in the middle of her shift shrieking, only to return moments later.

Back in the present, Byleth set a hand on Bernadetta’s shoulder to keep her from falling backward and breaking plates all over the floor (again). “Careful,” Byleth said, not for the first time that shift.

“I’m sorry!” Bernadetta cried. “Are you mad?!”

“I’m not mad.”

“You are, you’re just hiding it!”

“I’m not.”

“Oh great, now you’re probably even madder!”

Byleth sighed. “Bernadetta-“

“”I’m sorry!” The purple haired girl dumped all the plates into the large steel kitchen sink with a clatter and ran out the back door to the dumpster before Byleth could finish, blowing past Caspar who’d been pulling a basket of chips out of the deep fryer. “Stupid Bernie! Worthless! Unmarriageable!” The back door shut behind her with a bang, making a customer who was entering the shop jump.

“Sheesh, what got into her?” Caspar asked, setting the basket on a hook for a minute to let the excess oil drain off. He reached up to scratch his head before realizing at the last second that his gloves were covered in oil.

Byleth shook their head, but couldn’t keep a smile from their lips. The employees at their shop might be eccentric at times, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

Claude had been called many things in his life, including a “schemer”, “trouble-maker”, and his personal favorite, “silver tongued little brat” (courtesy of his parent’s friend, Judith). He liked being tricky and hard to pin down. He took great pride in his ability to appear as whimsical as the wind, right up until all the pieces of his various plans fell into place.

But this. This was something he’d never planned for.

“You’re throwing me out?!”

“Noooooo,” Hilda said, drawing out the sound, though refusing to meet Claude’s gaze. “I’m just… not renewing the lease.”

“You’re moving in with Marianne, aren’t you?” Claude groaned. He had nothing against the shy, soft spoken girl, but at the moment he was cursing every deity, and possibly a few demons just to cover his bases, for bringing her into Hilda’s life. That was a lie, Marianne was a sweetheart and thinking unkind things about her probably landed one in whatever the fifth circle of hell was.

“How-? No, of course you knew,” Hilda said, rolling her eyes, “You probably knew I was going to bring this up days ago.”

“Weeks,” Claude corrected, “Ow!” He winced as Hilda punched him in the arm. For a girl who constantly claimed to be a delicate flower, she had a nasty right hook.

“Why didn’t you bring it up then?” Hilda asked.

“I was hoping you would reconsider!” Claude said, rubbing his injured arm.

Hilda’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why you’ve been cleaning around the apartment for the past two weeks?”

Claude nodded shamelessly. “I was hoping you would see that and realize that I was the superior choice. Marianne wouldn’t know how to clean a room if her life depended on it.”

“Well luckily for her, it hasn’t,” Hilda said. She softened a tad. “Look, I’m sorry Claude. I know it’s going to be hard to find a new roommate, but I’ll help you ask around.”

Claude blinked. “Woah, you’d really make an effort to help?” He jumped back when Hilda swung at him again.

“Yes, really,” Hilda said, “It _is_ my fault that you’re hanging high and dry. The least I could do is figure out some options.” She grinned. “And by ‘I’, I mean I asked Ignatz to help you find some options.”

“Aww, I knew you cared about me,” Claude said.

“Of course I do, idiot.” She crossed the room to her backpack and pulled out a folder. “Ignatz has already found some promising contenders.” She spread out a pile of papers on their small dining room table.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Claude said, moving to the table to start perusing the documents. “Holy shit, is that a mansion?” He picked up a printout to get a closer look at the details. The listing warned that there would be other renters there, but Claude was confident in his abilities to charm anyone in his path.

“I know, right?” Hilda smirked, “Whoever’s renting out those rooms must either be really lonely or a huge dumbass.”

* * *

Sylvain sneezed. He turned his head away from his laptop for the instant before resuming his typing.

“Bless you,” Dimitri said absentmindedly, still staring at the closed door of the room El had disappeared into within minutes of her arrival. She had still not reappeared hours later. The lance had stopped burning as intently as it had when he’d first seen the woman, but it would still pulse mutedly in time with his heartbeat.

“Thanks,” Sylvain said.

“Well,” Dimitri began, “Are there any other surprises I should know about?”

Sylvain’s hands paused over the keys and he slowly turned to Dimitri. “Uh…”

Dimitri sighed, more tired than angry at this point. “What did you do?” He asked, channeling every inch of his fatherly disappointment.

“Okay well… I might have listed two of your rooms and not just the one,” Sylvain said, nodding his head in the direction of El’s room.

“You _what_?!”

“I thought you’d be gone!” Sylvain threw his hands up in surrender. “But no one’s responded to the other one yet! I can’t take it down until this weekend, but I’m sure no one else will respond by then, and even if they do we can just lie and say the room’s filled. Easy, right?”

“For your sake, I hope so,” Dimitri said. He rubbed at his chest, for once not quite sure if the pain was coming from the lance or an early onset of heartburn due to stress. It felt like somewhere fate was laughing at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Leader House! Leader House! Leader House!
> 
> 2) For just a small order of one large combo meal, you too can help Byleth regain their lost brain cells.


	3. A Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I didn't mention this before, but to avoid any confusion in future chapters Byleth in this story is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns. Anyway, enjoy!

Claude was running late to class. It wasn't something he had a habit of, contrary to popular belief. Though Claude made every effort to appear to be a slacker to his peers, it wouldn’t bode well for his future dreams and ambitions if his teachers didn’t have a good impression of him.

This one thought driving his sleep-addled mind and body forward, Claude blew through his morning routine in his rush to get out of the apartment. He frantically shoved his laptop and notebooks into his bag, nearly taking out the three foot tall wooden wyvern (“It’s not a dragon, Hilda!”) sculpture he’d once ordered on a whim and also while incredibly wasted. Claude internally mourned the loss of his usual breakfast of pop tarts and soda, which was _a_ _perfectly fine meal, thank you Lorenz_. He resolved to pick up something on his way back from class instead.

By the time he’d flung himself into the apartment’s hallway, bag hanging off one shoulder as he tried to tie his shoes with his free hand, Hilda was already awake. Claude groaned. If his notoriously lazy roommate was actually conscious by the time he left, he was probably even later than he thought.

“What’s the rush?” Hilda asked, wiping sleep from her eyes. She then frowned when she registered Claude’s appearance. “And what are you _wearing_?”

Given her tone, Claude imagined that whatever he’d managed to grab from the bottom of his closet wasn’t all that flattering, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. “Class! Late!” he yelled.

“Just skip,” Hilda said.

“Can’t,” Claude huffed, fumbling for his keys from a hook near the front door. He swore when he dropped them. As he bent over to retrieve his keys, he glanced at the microwave in the kitchen, and saw that he had approximately ten minutes to book it to his classroom on the other side of campus. His professor, Hanneman, was a real stickler for punctuality, and always locked the door the minute that class started. The walk to class usually took him about fifteen minutes, but Claude hadn’t taken track and field in middle school for nothing.

“You told me you always pretended that you were sick during track and field,” Hilda said. Claude grimaced, realizing he’d spoken aloud.

“Yeah, well…” he opened the front door, “I thought about running a lot. Doesn’t that count for something?” He bolted before Hilda could respond, already envisioning all the different routes to class and speculating which would be the fastest.

Halfway to campus, he noticed a small tea shop on the side of the street and made a mental note to stop by there later. Oddly, he couldn’t recall seeing it before. Maybe someone new had moved in.

* * *

El may not have been able to remember her former life as a mortal, but she liked to imagine that she’d been just as hard working in her previous life as she was currently. Reapers weren’t prone to many emotions, but El felt a calm sort of pride in her control over her abilities, not the least of which was her aptitude for magic.

She’d always felt confident in her ability to keep her tea shop hidden from mortal eyes, so much so that she didn’t even bother locking up most days. Routine bred complacency, she supposed. Perhaps that was why she was so stunned that morning to see a human, a young one at that, standing in the middle of her store.

“Hey!” the man said, waving a hand, “Are you guys open? Your hours weren’t listed on the door.”

El froze, looking the other up and down. He didn’t appear to be another reaper or otherwise supernatural being, especially with his messy brown hair, faded jeans, beat up sneakers, and neon orange top that read “This shirt is 100% boyfriend material”.

“Uh.” He shifted slightly under El’s scrutiny. Her eyes snapped back to his face, taking in his practiced smile, but wary eyes. “I know I’m fascinating to look at but…” El’s initial shock and curiosity quickly wore off as a hint of smugness crept into the man’s expression. El’s own face immediately went blank.

“We are. Open, that is,” she said in a clipped tone, “My apologies. I was checking our stock, as this time is usually not very busy for us. I was surprised to find someone waiting.”

“No problem,” the man said. If he’d noticed her change in demeanor, he wasn’t showing it. His smirk never seemed to waver, much to El’s displeasure. 

His eyes darted around the store, and El immediately became aware of how sparsely the shop was decorated. There was not much in the way of interior design aside from a few chairs and tables. In one corner there was a potted plant that never required water, and on the walls opposite the window front was a painting that she’d picked up from her time working in the Leicester Alliance a century ago. 

The only piece that had any kind of personal touch was a battle axe that she’d found at an antique store a year prior. When she’d seen it, she’d gotten a strange feeling that it was significant, at least to her. El had purchased it immediately, barely listening to the store owner drone on about certificates and how the axe was a genuine relic of the ancient Adrestian Empire. When she had held it for the first time, she felt… Well, she’d felt, which was a bit novel in itself for a grim reaper.

“Do you have a menu?” the man asked back in the present, interrupting El’s train of thought.

El blinked. A menu? She’d never thought to make one. Whenever she’d ushered souls through her store she’d usually make Bergamot tea, and she had never gotten any complaints. “I have quite a wide selection,” she said, hoping to cover for any perceived misstep, “What is your preference?”

The customer raised an eyebrow, the first fully genuine expression she’d seen from him so far. “Do you have anything from Almyra?” He asked dubiously.

El mentally reviewed her stock and recalled an old box of Almyran pine needle tea she’d picked up a decade ago. Nothing in her stock ever seemed to go bad, so that should be fine, right? And if the customer got sick and died from outdated tea, well he was already in the right place. “We do,” she confirmed. “We have Almyran pine needle tea.”

“Sounds great!” he looked at her expectantly. His smile faltered slightly when El didn’t say anything else to follow that up. “Er, how much is it?”

“Oh!” El furrowed her brow. She’d accumulated a good fortune over her many centuries of work. Some may find it distasteful for her to take a few bills out of the wallets of the deceased, but it wasn’t like they needed the money anyway and she had bills to pay. But now, should she just say the tea was on the house? Would that be too suspicious?

As far as pricing went, El wasn’t sure how much a cup of tea cost in this day and age. “Two hundred gold?” El suggested tentatively, eyes darting to the price listed on a newspaper stand outside on the sidewalk.

“Wow, this place is cheap!” the man said, cheerfully pulling out his wallet and handing over the money. She took the coins and, not quite sure what to do with them, and hit a button on her aging cash register that she’d bought from the same antique shop she’d gotten her axe from. She briefly worried that the machine wasn’t even functional as she had bought it primarily for the aesthetic. However, her fears were soon put to rest as the lower drawer thankfully still slid open with a light ding, revealing completely empty and very dusty money slots.

El quickly dropped the coins in and shut the register before the customer could see. “I’ll have your drink right out,” she said, “What’s the name?”

“Claude,” the man replied. El turned to go prepare the tea when he asked, “Actually, can I get that to-go?”

The reaper frowned. “‘To go’?” she asked, turning the words over. Did he want to drink outside? She didn’t have any tables set up out there. And what if he ran away with one of her cups?.

Claude clearly picked up on El’s hesitation, because he hastily backtracked. “Actually, I have time. Don’t worry about it.” he pulled out a chair at one of the tables and sat down.

El walked into her back room and set a teapot full of water on the stove to boil. She’d never really heard about something like this happening to any other reaper before. Was her magic failing? Or was this Claude just a special case?

She glanced over her shoulder toward the front and saw said man messing with some sort of device (El had never bothered to stay updated on technology after CD’s). Perhaps this was worth contacting someone about. And if she found him to be a threat, well… she kept the axe on the wall sharp.

* * *

“Someone called about the room?” Dimitri asked, feeling a faint throbbing pressure build behind his temples. “You told them it was unavailable, right?”

“So, funny story,” Sylvain’s distorted voice said over the phone. 

Dimitri counted to ten in his head and back again. It didn’t help. “Is it now.”

“Okay, maybe not side splittingly hilarious, but the point is that I tried and we should both focus on that,” Sylvain said.

“And?”

“And… well it turns out that it’s actually illegal to not at least give a tour of the space if the room is still available. Something about discrimination laws or whatever.”

“I see where this is going, and I’m not happy.”

Sylvain laughed nervously, “But not mad enough to do anything drastic like firing your wonderfully handsome and talented assistant, right?”

“Now _there’s_ an idea.”

“Forget I said that,” Sylvain said quickly, “Look, if you just give this guy a tour, then we can both be done with this. I’ll take the listing down in a few days just like I said. Turn away this one guy, and it’ll all be over.”

“Fine,” Dimitri said, “I assume you’ve left it up to me to inform El about this as well?” He ignored the twinge from the lance when he mentioned the reaper's name. It was becoming more familiar, and didn't pain him as much anymore.

“Mmmmmmaybe?”

“Why am I paying you?”

“Because you love me?”

“Try again.”

“Because I deal with your e-mails from Cornelia?”

Dimitri grimaced. “Right. Keep that up, and we can discuss later whether or not you get to keep your job.” They both knew it was an empty threat, but it was the principle of the thing.

“You got it, boss man!”

Dimitri stared at his phone as Sylvain hung up. “Gods, I miss Dedue.”

* * *

“A menu,” El murmured aloud as she walked back to her new from her shop (taking care to lock up for once). She’d never thought about her tea shop as a business before, but perhaps she should? She could take the glamour down whenever she wanted, but serving customers might take away form the shop’s actual purpose of being a crossroads for souls.

That said… it would be nice to see people every once in a while. There were times when the shop felt a bit too quiet and too large with just El there. Maybe she could open only for an hour or two? But that was likely a poor business model. However, it had been nice to talk with that man, though he’d only stayed for a brief period, downing his tea so fast that El was sure that he scalded his tongue in the process.

As far as the strange mortal went, El had already sent a message on a card to Shamir. She found herself anxious for the older reaper’s reply. The man, Claude she reminded herself, could potentially blow her cover if magic and glamours didn’t work on him. She doubted he knew exactly what she was, though. Many humans didn’t believe in the supernatural, and Claude had never given any sign to indicate that he thought that she was anything less than human.

El jerked out of her thoughts as she nearly collided with a chalk sandwich board in the middle of the sidewalk. Pausing, she glanced over it to see it was announcing the daily special (a fish basket combo with a side of coleslaw) for some fast food place. She glanced to her right to see the store that was being advertised.

The Fishing Pond looked like any other greasy fried food shop, but El’s gaze trailed through the window to land on a girl with purple hair. She was in the process of sweeping the store’s floors. Their eyes met for a split second and, to El’s surprise, the other girl immediately cowered behind her broom.

El felt the briefest flash of embarrassment for managing to scare someone just by looking at them. She quickly turned to continue down her route. As she walked, her mind returned to the chalkboard sign she’d seen. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to invest in one, just for the sake of keeping up appearances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) El's recent search results include: "how much does tea cost", "good menu designs", and "what is resting bitch face"
> 
> 2) Sylvain: You can't have the room  
> Claude: [cracking his knuckles and pulling out all the textbooks he got from his two months at law school] I'm about to end this man's whole career
> 
> 3) Yes, I will be trying to work the sewer kids in eventually, I love them a lot.


	4. A Revelation

_Edelgard paused for a moment over the fallen form of Dimitri. In his last seconds, he’d stared at her with a mess of emotions swarming across his face. Rage and pain, foremost, but also regret and a deep, deep sadness. The one that startled her most was the clarity she’d recognized in his eyes when she’d run the lance through his chest. For that single instant, they were the shining, unclouded blue that they had been in their time at the monastery._

_Now, though, they were empty and unseeing. His form, which had been so large and imposing when they fought, seemed to shrink and leave behind just a man. He was young, Edelgard had realized, and so was she. She wondered absently if his crown had slipped down on his head the first time he wore it, like hers had._

_Her reflections were interrupted by Hubert appearing suddenly by her side. She had no doubts that he’d been waiting nearby the whole time during her fight with Dimitri, and likely would have jumped in had Edelgard not forbade it beforehand._

_He immediately bowed. “Lady Edelgard,” he said, narrowed eyes darting toward the fallen king and then back to her. “What are your orders?”_

_Edelgard let out a breath, taking one last glance at Dimitri, before straightening up and squaring her shoulders. “Take his body somewhere hidden,” she said, “The last thing we need are people holding him up as a martyr. I will be in my office drafting the official address to the citizens regarding what happened here. I would like to not be interrupted unless the matter is urgent.”_

_“Understood,” Hubert said, bowing again. “It shall be done.” He left with a grand sweep of his cloak. Edelgard bent to retrieve her fallen axe, turned on her heel and marched back into her palace, not sparing the king another look._

_As she strode through the halls, she found them all empty. Most of the servants were likely giving her a wide berth, as were many of her allies. She thought she caught a flash of Dorothea’s brown hair or Petra’s colorful outfit, but no one moved to intercept her as she continued toward her office. It was for the best, given how conflicted she felt in that moment. When she finally reached the privacy of her room, she swung the door behind her and locked it, finally letting her posture relax._

_“Edelgard.” The Emperor jumped, spinning around with her axe held aloft. She lowered it in relief when she only found her professor sitting in one of the large chairs around the desk._

_“My teacher,” she said, leaning her axe against the wall. “Why are you here? Is something the matter?” She crossed the room to sit in the chair across from Byleth. She quickly ran through all the matters she had been needing to address, but none of the reports she’d received recently had seemed particularly urgent._

_Byleth shook their head. “No, nothing is wrong,” they said. They tilted their head, “I just thought you might like some company right now.”_

_Edelgard blinked, and then leaned back in her seat, a sad smile on her lips. “You always seem to know,” she said._

_The professor shook their head. “I… I am not good with words,” they said, frowning, “But with what just happened… I just wanted to let you know that I am here.”_

_“Honestly, it hasn’t quite sunk in for me,” Edelgard admitted. “Perhaps it was because he did not seem like the Dimitri I remembered from the monastery.” (‘Or before that,’ her traitorous brain added) “I know Ferdinand reported that he was different, but the look in his eyes… I’ve never seen anger like that before.” She grimaced. “I don’t regret what I did. I can’t. I wish it could have turned out differently between us though.”_

_“He was also once your comrade,” Byleth said._

_‘He was also once your brother,’ the voice in Edelgard’s mind whispered._

_“Yes,” Edelgard agreed, staring at her hands, the same ones that had plunged the lance forward into Dimitri’s body just moments before. “He was.”_

_“You cannot stop now, though.”_

_“No. I won’t. It would not be fair to those I have dragged into this bloody war for me to stop before I achieve my goal. I will keep going until I can no longer raise my weapon, and even then I would still find a way to move forward.” She raised her eyes back to the professor who was staring at her with an expression that was almost…fond. “Will you continue to follow me, my teacher?”_

_“I will,” Byleth said. They suddenly leaned forward to take Edelgard’s hands, the hands that had ended so many lives, and gave Edelgard one of their rare smiles. Edelgard felt her heart pick up tempo slightly upon seeing it. “I will always be here to support you.”_

* * *

“His name is Claude von Riegan,” Sylvain said, reading off his laptop. Dimitri had asked for all the details on the person set to tour that afternoon, lest he be caught off guard again as he had been in El’s case. “He goes to the college near here. Major undecided, though he dabbles in a bit of everything from what I could find. Not much info out there about his past.”

“At least we have a name,” Dimitri sighed, a hand coming up to rub at his chest. “How did he sound when he called about the room?”

“He’s a smooth talker,” Sylvain said, sounding a touch too amused for Dimitri’s taste, “Didn’t reveal too much about himself. I guess we’ll have to find out whenever he arrives.”

“You didn’t have to stay for this,” Dimitri said, turning to his personal assistant, “You could probably be doing something more worthwhile with your time.”

“Nah,” Sylvain said, shutting the lid of his laptop, “I got you into this mess, I’ll see it through. Plus, you might need me if you have problems turning him away.”

Dimitri grimaced. Sylvain was right, Dimitri did have problems saying no to people at times, especially if they needed help. “Thank you, Sylvain.”

The red head shot him a grin, a genuine crooked one as opposed to the practiced shining smiles that Dimitri saw him give around the office. “No problem, boss man. He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes, so if there’s any last minute things you want to take care of, I’d do it now.”

Dimitri frowned. The only snag he could think of was El, but she’d left earlier that morning (presumably headed to her unpleasant job) and hadn’t yet returned. “I do not believe there is anything, especially since I have no intention of taking him on.”

“That’s the spirit!” Sylvain said, “We’ll have this guy out of here in no time!”

* * *

“The most important thing is a good first impression,” Lorenz lectured, narrowing his eyes at Claude’s messy hair. They were both standing in Claude’s tiny room, Lorenz hellbent on finding Claude something appropriate to wear to his tour of potential apartments. Half the contents of Claude’s closet were already piled high on his bed and floor, apparently not up to Lorenz’s strict standards.

Claude barely avoided rolling his own eyes in response. Instead he opted to give Lorenz one of his patented smiles (Charming Grin #4, guaranteed to get one out of trouble). Unfortunately, Lorenz was far too used to Claude for the grin to have much effect. “Thank you, Lorenz,” he said, sarcastically sweet.

“I’m _trying_ to help you,” Lorenz groused. With that, he tossed another shirt with a deer graphic slapped on it to the ‘Hell No’ pile. 

“Ugh, we’re going to be _late_!” Hilda whined from the hallway. “And I thought I took a while to get ready!” For some reason, a number of Lorenz and Claude’s friends had decided to tag along on the tours, though thankfully they had all agreed that only one of them at a time would walk up with Claude to the house.

“You can’t rush these things,” Lorenz sniffed.

“You can if we’re on a schedule!” Leonie called. There was a jingling sound, indicating that she was shaking her car keys impatiently.

“Look, how about this,” Claude said, snatching the yellow button up that Lorenz was holding and quickly throwing it over his white shirt. “A little nicer than normal but still casual.”

Lorenz huffed. “Maybe if you’re going to Applebee’s.”

“Now I’m hungry!” Raphael said.

“For Applebee’s?” Lysithia asked, “Gods, you must be desperate.”

“That’s it, time’s up!” Leonie declared, kicking open Claude’s door. She gave Claude an up and down glance. “You look fine. Let’s go.”

Despite Lorenz’s protests, the group headed out of the apartment and split up into two different cars. Unfortunately, Claude was stuck in the car with Leonie, Lorenz, and Lysithia while Hilda, Marianne, Raphael and Ignatz piled into the other.

“As I was saying about conduct,” Lorenz began. 

Claude quickly tuned him out and leaned his head on the window, hoping vaguely that getting a mild concussion would make the trip bearable.

* * *

The first house the group visited was a bust. Claude had gone up with Hilda to see the place and, though it was a decent size, Hilda had whispered that she’d noticed the stairs were falling apart and the rest of the place probably wasn’t far behind. It didn’t help that the bathroom looked and smelled disgusting, and there was no place Claude could find to do laundry.

“Next,” he said, getting back in the van.

“No go?” Leonie asked.

“Nope.”

They drove onto the next apartment on the list, Lysithia marking thorough the rejected one with a bright red marker.

The next place looked fine, but Claude got some seriously weird vibes from the leaser, Monica. Leonie, who’d gone with him that time, apparently felt the same because she prompted him to rush through the tour as quickly as possible. Monica had waved pleasantly at them as they left, giving a polite but firm no. When the door shut, Claude wondered if she went back to skinning cats or whatever other weird things she probably did in there.

The apartment afterward Claude toured with Lorenz. Though the taller man wasn’t rude enough to say anything about the place in front of the leaser, he made sure to detail every single thing he’d noticed during the tour that he’d found distasteful. Most of the things weren’t a huge deal to Claude (No tea set? Really, Lorenz?), but it was a bit too far from the university for Claude’s tastes.

And so the day went, hours passing and more and more red lines appearing on Lysithia’s sheet. Near the end, Claude found himself becoming a bit desperate. Was he being too picky? But he would be _living there,_ so maybe he wasn’t being picky enough. He turned in his seat to face Lysithia.

“How many have we visited?” he asked.

“We’ve been to five and we still have one to go,” she said. 

“Hopefully this is the one,” Leonie said, turning the car into a long driveway. Claude felt the tension in his stomach build as the large house, the mansion that Hilda and he had joked about, grew closer.

“I’m not sure about this one,” Claude said. “This place probably costs more than what my parents make combined.”

“You never know,” Leonie said. “It was pretty cheap, all things considered. Maybe something happened there. Maybe it’s haunted.”

“S-shut up!” Lysithia snapped. “There’s no way!” Her eyes darted to the mansion as if expecting a poltergeist to come bursting out of it.

“Well, it at least looks nice,” Lorenz said. They parked the car, and Hilda’s own car pulled up next to theirs moments later.

Claude unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car, looking back at the _literal mansion_ in front of him. “Gods.”

“It would be so cool if you lived here!” Raphael said, exiting Hilda’s car. “You could have a whole party in there! I bet they have a barbecue too!”

“Why would you think that?” Lysithia asked, bewildered.

“Dunno. Don’t all rich people have barbecues?”

“Lorenz doesn’t have a barbecue,” Lysithia said.

“Lorenz has a personal chef,” Leonie said.

“Oh man, I’d love a personal chef!” Raphael grinned.

“Alright, who’s going up with Claude?” Hilda cut in, looking like she just wanted to get this over with and head home. Marianne placed a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, making Hilda soften slightly, though she still looked a bit impatient. The group all looked at each other.

“I went last time,” Leonie said, holding up her hands.

Lysithia rolled her eyes. “I’ll go so we can get this over with. I’m hungry.”

“Same!” Raphael said.

“You’re always hungry,” Ignatz said, a bit fondly.

“Alright, let’s get going, kid,” Claude said, looking to Lysithia.

She frowned. “I’m not a kid! But you’re right, let’s go.” They both headed toward the long paved walkway leading up to the house, and honestly who needed a whole walkway? Why was the yard so big?

“Good first impressions,” Lysithia said mockingly once they were on the front doorstep.

“Good first impressions,” Claude echoed, raising a hand to ring the doorbell.

* * *

Dimitri opened the door and was greeted with by a brown haired man who was in the middle of saying something to a shorter girl with shockingly white hair. For a second Dimitri wondered if El had somehow shrunk and returned, but upon a second glance he realized that her hair style was different.

“Hey there!” the man said, eyes turning from the white haired girl to Dimitri.

‘This must be Claude,’ Dimitri thought.

As soon as their eyes met, Claude froze. Dimitri had just a second to notice how green Claude’s wide eyes were, before the other man’s gaze dropped from Dimitri’s face to the center of his chest. “What the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Claude: Nailed it
> 
> 2) What if the sewer kids just lived in a hidden room in the mansion like in Parasite. Would that be messed up or what?


	5. An Inevitability

Claude barely registered Lysithia smacking him repeatedly on the arm following his stellar introduction. in his defense, Claude was staring at a man with a huge medieval weapon in his chest. He thought that was slightly more pressing of a matter than any faux pas.

“Lysithia! Call an ambulance!” Claude blurted, raising his hands at the same time to possibly try and yank the weapon (Lance, maybe? Spear? Claude hadn’t taken any classes on identifying war implements lodge in the bodies of handsome strangers, so it was a lance until some person with a college degree in the subject told him otherwise) out himself. 

He stopped himself inches away from laying fingers on the metal hilt, suddenly recalling a safety video that Hilda had sent him an hour after she told him that she wasn’t renewing the lease. She had captioned it “for when your dumb ass gets stabbed walking to campus without my protection”. The video had explained, in graphic detail and with the visual of a ziplock bag full of water being stabbed with pencils, that one should not attempt to remove a knife from themselves or another person without proper training as the weapon could be the only thing preventing the person from bleeding out. Claude wasn’t quite sure if that applied in this situation, but with his luck he imagined that actually touching the lance would make this situation even worse.

“What?!” Lysithia said, snapping Claude out of his exponentially increasing series of mini-mental breakdowns, “Why do we need an ambulance?” Her eyebrows were nearly up to her hairline, and her expression was torn between terrified by Claude’s sudden panic, and embarrassed by the bewildered expression the blonde man was giving them.

“What do you mean, ‘why do we need an amulance’?!” Claude exclaimed, waving a hand toward the blonde, “Look at him!”

Lysithia looked at the man in the doorway, and then back to Claude. The embarrassment in her expression was starting to overtake the terror. “Yes…?”

“Um,” Blonde Guy said. His voice was deeper than Claude expected, and remarkably free of any blood that probably should have been filling his lungs and other vital organs given the circumstances. “Are you…Claude?”

Claude blinked at him, his brain trying to process that the man in front of him was asking for his name while there was clearly a huge metal weapon skewered through his chest. The moment was made all the more surreal by the fact that the man didn’t appear to be bleeding anywhere either. Claude distantly became aware that he should probably say something as the silence had been dragging out, but unfortunately Claude’s silver tongue failed him for the first time in his life.

“Is… is this a prank?” Claude finally asked, desperate for some sensible explanation. He glanced around for a camera or some cheesy variety show host that might come popping up from behind the fancy leather couch he could see inside the house.

“No,” Blonde Guy said slowly, “You’re here for the tour, right?”

“I think you have bigger problems,” Claude said faintly. Was he going to pass out? He was totally going to pass out. Maybe he should ask Lysithia to call Lorenz. If anyone had a fainting couch, it was that guy.

“Claude!” Lysithia hissed.

“Maybe this won’t work out,” someone said from behind Blonde Guy. Claude hadn’t even noticed the other man, too preoccupied by the Human Shish Kebab in front of him, but he recognized the man’s voice as being the same one he’d heard on the phone when asking for a tour. The man, Sylvain if he remembered correctly, also did not acknowledge the weapon in Blonde Guy’s chest because apparently that’s just how things were.

“Am I losing my mind?” Claude muttered. he’d heard of people having auditory or visual hallucinations before, but never something like this.

“Well, at the very least you’ve lost your manners!” Lysithia snapped, finally fed up with the whole situation. She bowed to the two men in front of them. “I’m so sorry about him. He was dropped down several flights of stairs as a baby.” The men both looked to each other and then back to Claude and Lysithia, a whole conversation apparently passing between the two of them.

“Perhaps this isn’t the best time,” Blonde Guy said diplomatically. Claude nearly laughed in his face at the magnitude of that understatement.

“You think?” Claude asked, “Maybe we should reschedule for when there isn’t a GODS DAMNED LANCE in your chest! Are we not going to talk about it?!”

The blonde abruptly went pale, mouth dropping open, “Wh-?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sylvain asked, arms crossing over his chest, “Look, man, you’re clearly not feeling well, so maybe you should just-“

“Oh, I’m not feeling well?” Claude snorted, “Then I’d hate to imagine how he’s feeling!”

“Listen-“

“Sylvain,” Blonde Guy said firmly, apparently having recollected himself.

The red head in question protested, “Dimitri, this guy’s clearly a few spells short of a tome.”

“Hey!” Lysithia glared at Sylvain. In any other situation, Claude would have been flattered by how fast she rushed to his defense despite her current exasperation with him, but at that moment he was trying to figure out whether or not the lance was actually there or if it was some kind of metaphor that his subconscious was using to try and tell him something. Maybe he had more repressed childhood trauma than he thought.

“Why don’t you two come in?” Dimitri said, glancing around at the neighbor’s houses. They were definitely causing a scene and Claude was sure that Dimitri’s rich neighbors would not appreciate this increasingly loud conversation interrupting their… multi-level marketing scams or whatever it was that rich people did.

“What?” Sylvain asked, “Are you sure?” He gave Claude a pointed look.

At this point, Claude had had enough and, in a fit of what he would later refer to as Medieval Weapon Induced Madness, reached out and grabbed hilt of the lance. He had just a moment to register that the metal was warm under his hand and vibrated with something like pent up energy. It almost felt alive. Though Lysithia and Sylvain were clearly baffled by Claude’s actions, Dimitri looked downright horrified.

“No, don’t-!”

* * *

_Five year old Dimitri had always loved hearing stories from his father. Usually they were about the king’s many trips around Faerghus or his diplomatic visits to the Empire or Alliance territories. While Dimitri still enjoyed those stories, his favorites were the ones where his father would tell him about fighting monsters and Demonic Beasts. Of course, the king would always emerge victorious, just like all the tales of Loog that Ingrid would talk about when she came to the palace to visit. His father, Dimitri had thought with pride, was a real life hero._

_That particular evening, King Lambert had promised Dimitri a new story about monsters. Dimitri had hardly been able to sit still after dinner, and had rushed through his evening routine, much to the displeasure of his attendants._

_“Excited, Dima?” his father had asked, laughing as Dimitri nodded furiously. “I’ll have to try and tell you something really special then, so I don’t disappoint.”_

_“You never disappoint!” Dimitri insisted._

_The king patted Dimitri on the head. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried you might be getting too old for these stories.”_

_“Never!”_

_“Alright, let me think,” the king paused, “I’ll tell you about some rare monsters then. Ones that hide so well that even I have never seen them.” Dimitri glowed with excitement. “There are some monsters that appear to be humans,” his father began, “You would not even know if you walked past them. They look like us, eat like us, and even talk like us. One of those is a grim reaper.”_

_I’ve heard of those!” Dimitri said, “They kill people, right?”_

_“Not exactly,” his father said, “They are more like guides. They escort souls to the afterlife and rebirth.”_

_“Oh,” Dimitri said, mulling it over, “I guess that’s nice.”_

_“Nice?”_

_“I mean,” Dimitri said, “It’s nice that they help people. I wouldn’t want to go alone.”_

_The king nodded at that. “That is true. I had not thought of it that way before.”_

_“Are there other monsters that look human?”_

_“Of course,” his father said, returning to his story, “Sirens, The Fair Folk, Goblins-“_

_“Goblins?” Dimitri interrupted. He remembered Ingrid mentioning goblins in one of her stories about Loog, but the ones she had described were scrawny with mottled green and gray skin. Those definitely couldn’t pass as humans._

_“Yes, goblins,” his father confirmed, “They are different from the ones in books. Goblins look just like people because they were human once. They become cursed when they are killed with their own weapons.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because they have taken the lives of innocents. Their punishment is to wander the earth forever.”_

_Dimitri frowned. “But isn’t being able to live forever a good thing?” There were other tales where finding things like an alchemical stone or fountain of youth were the whole point of the story. The prince had never thought of living forever as a bad thing._

_“Not always,” his father shook his head, “Living forever is lonely. Imagine watching those you love perish while being unable to move on yourself.”_

_“That’s sad,” Dimitri finally said. “Can…can they break the curse?”_

_“There is a way,” his father said, “The goblin must find their bride, or I guess ‘destined partner’ might be a more accurate term. That person will will be able to remove the goblin’s weapon from their body and break the curse.”_

_“What happens after that?”_

_“Well, I suppose the goblin dies.”_

* * *

El was walking back from her tea shop that afternoon having escorted three souls to the afterlife. She planned to eat at her newly rented house before heading back out for her evening assignments. The work of a reaper was endless, but fortunately El had never really needed much rest. One of the few perks of being cursed, she thought with a sour sort of detachment.

“Hey there!” El turned to see a street vendor waving to her. The vendor was a young girl with unnaturally green hair (it had to be dyed) pulled back by a golden headband. Though normally El would give a polite excuse and keep walking, something about the stall drew her closer.

“Have a look!” the girl encouraged. The table she had in front of her was clustered with jewelry, likely all cheap knockoffs given the low prices. El politely looked over the necklaces, bracelets, and rings without any intention of making a purchase.

“Thank you,” she said, preparing to leave. She was already confused as to why she had even stopped in the first place. “I need to get going, though-“

“Wait, just try some on!” the girl said, pulling out a hand mirror, “I guarantee you’ll find something special!” The mirror reflected the bright afternoon sun into El’s eyes, making her blink back spots.

“I’m sorry,” El said, raising a hand to rub at her eyes, “But I’m not-“ she trailed off, staring at where the bright patch of sunlight from the mirror had now landed. The spot illuminated a ring. A rather simple one at that, with a silver band and a few teardrop shaped gems arranged into what resembled a flower. As soon as El laid eyes on it, her heart jumped in her chest for no reason she could discern.

“That ring…” El said, something in her heart pulling, no _wrenching_ , her toward it. Her fingers twitched at her side, and she raised her hand to take it.

Suddenly, a hand reached into her line of sight to pluck the ring from its velvet slot.

“How much is this?” a voice asked.

El turned to see a person with shining teal hair holding the ring. All at once, the world around El seemed to freeze, and all she could focus on was the newcomer. El’s heart pounded in her ears. She shuddered with a feeling she could hardly recognize, much less name. ‘ _What’s happening to me?_ ’ El thought desperately, and then, ‘ _Who are you?_ ’

The stranger turned to El, their expression taken over by concern. “Are you crying?” They asked.

Was she? El reached up a hand to her face, only for her fingers to come back wet. When had she started crying? She couldn’t recall crying even once in her many centuries of being a reaper.

“I-“ El managed. Her eyes flickered to the ring in the stranger’s hand.

They frowned, and El found that she did not like seeing that expression on the other’s face. “You may have the ring,” they said, “It must be important to you.” 

They held out the ring. Something about the gesture made the tears come faster. It felt familiar but also _wrong._ ‘ _It wasn’t like this_ ,’ El thought nonsensically, but she took the ring with shaking fingers.

“Do you…” the stranger began, “Can I help? Do you need to call someone?”

El attempted to blink all the tears from her eyes. “No,” she croaked. She coughed to clear her throat. “No,” she said, more firmly. “I’m fine. I’ve just… had a long day.”

The stranger nodded slowly, expression unreadable. “I see. Well, I’ll be going if you’re sure.” El managed to nod on autopilot. They gave her one last measured look, turned, and walked away.

Something in El longed to run after them. To grab them by the arm, spin them around and then- And then what? Why had she acted like that? 

All at once, El came back to her senses. She immediately flushed, embarrassed by her behavior. Had she really broken down crying out of nowhere? El scrubbed at her eyes, and another realization hit her. Not only had she cried in front of the person with the ring, but also…

El turned to see the stall vendor still watching her from behind the table of jewelry. The girl raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “So are you going to pay for that, or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Claude: [is about to commit manslaughter]  
> Dimitri: [life flashing before his eyes] I should have never hired Sylvain
> 
> 2) El's recent search: "I saw a person so beautiful I started crying????"


	6. An Explanation

_When Dimitri opened his eyes, the sky was a clear, cloudless blue. ‘Am I dead?’ he wondered. But this felt too peaceful for death. It lacked the fire and pain he had expected to come once he passed on. He’d been so certain that the only thing awaiting him in the afterlife was punishment befitting the terrible sins he’d committed._

_But there was no pain or torment here. There was only the sky above him and, as he just turned his head to the right, towering trees. A forest then. It smelled like one, the scent of earth and nature thick in the air. There was a rustle of branches, and he watched as a bird took flight into the sky overhead._

_He then managed to lift his head up enough to look down at himself and-_

_Dimitri froze, staring at the metal grip of a lance, his lance, protruding out from his chest. Memories rushed back to him. His reckless assault on the Imperial Palace. His fight with Edelgard. The instant he dropped his lance, the searing pain, and then…_

_Perhaps he was almost dead. That made sense. He imagined that Hubert, the spiteful nasty man that he was, probably dragged Dimitri’s body to rot out in the middle of the woods. However, he couldn’t imagine the scheming attendant to not at least check that Dimitri was dead before leaving him._

_And then, another realization struck Dimitri with the force of a battalion. It was quiet. The only noises he could hear were of the animals of the forest going about their daily routines and the wind blowing through the trees. For the first time in nearly as long as Dimitri could remember, there were no ghosts. He was completely alone._

_He sucked in a sharp breath, noting that it didn’t hurt to breathe. Dimitri experimentally attempted to move his right arm, which flexed without any hesitation. Cautiously, disbelievingly, Dimitri sat up. There was no pain. There was no blood. Had he, himself, finally become a ghost? He nearly laughed at the bitter irony._

_On a lark, he grabbed the lance’s hilt. The action sent a surge of agony through him. He staggered back, leaning heavily on a tree. He quickly dropped his hand and the waves of pain receded to a dull ache. What had happened to him? What had he become?_

_When he finally managed to move again, he stood alone and directionless in the middle of the woods. What was he to do now? Should he try and return to Enbarr, to confront Edelgard yet again? The mere thought of doing so left him feeling hollowed out and exhausted._

_Dimitri had always been tormented by his ghosts. He had thought before that he would give anything to make the voices in his head stop but now, as he was left alone with only himself, Dimitri wondered if the ghosts had been the only thing to give him purpose._

* * *

In the stories Dimitri read as a child, any death scenes were dramatic. It went like this: a knight, seeing no other option, would bravely sacrifice themselves to save their loved ones. In the moment that they stared death in the face, their only thoughts would be about dying for a just cause. Dimitri back then had wondered if he would go out similarly, in an honorable way with resolve and dignity.

Now, however, with death imminent in the form of one messy haired college student grabbing the only thing tying Dimitri to this mortal coil, Dimitri’s only thought was, ‘ _I can’t die. I haven’t finished that episode of the Great British Bake Off!’_

He moved without thinking. Though it had been centuries since Dimitri had seen real, life threatening combat, his reflexes had not dulled in the least. His hand shot out to grab the offender’s, and he narrowly prevented himself from crushing all of the other man’s hand bones in his grasp.

“Ow, shit!” Claude yelled, immediately letting go of the lance.

“Oh, uh,” Dimitri released the hand, “Sorry, I-“

“What the hell!” the white haired girl screamed. Sylvain echoed her sentiments fervently.

“What kind of monster grip do you have?!” Claude cradled his bruised hand to his chest.

Dimitri winced, “I deeply apologize, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, too late for that!”

“It was just,” Dimitri floundered, flushing, “I did not expect that.”

“Clearly!” Claude said, “I was just trying to help you out!”

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but if you had succeeded in removing the lance then I am afraid that there would have been much bigger problems,” Dimitri said. And wasn’t that the truth. When Dimitri had woken up that morning there was no way he had ever expected to meet his - bride? Destined partner? - that afternoon. Honestly, at this point he barely registered the words coming out of his own mouth as he stared wide eyed at the man in front of him. 

_This was the one who would save him_ , Dimitri’s heart said.

 _Stop_ , Dimitri told it firmly. 

“Will _someone_ tell me what’s going on?!” the white haired girl finally screamed, shutting up both Dimitri and Claude. There was a pause.

“Yeah, actually, I’d like to know too,” Sylvain said, raising a hand.

Dimitri sighed internally. He shoved away his confusing feelings and decided to focus instead on the one matter he could handle. “Why don’t you two come inside. I feel as though this explanation might take a long time.”

The girl and Claude looked at each other before looking back to Dimitri. Claude pulled out his phone. “Yeah, okay,” he said, “Let me just text our friends to go on to IHOP without us.”

* * *

El sat at one of her cafe’s tables, still a bit dazed from what had happened earlier at the jewelry stall. She’d been so stunned following the events that she had rushed back to her workplace rather than heading home like she had originally intended. In her moment of vulnerabiltiy, the last thing she had wanted was to see her new… room mate. 

She stared down at her left hand, where the ring rested on her fourth finger. The weight of it was comforting for a reason she could not explain. El brushed her thumb over the raised gems for what was probably the hundredth time. The action was also familiar, perhaps a long forgotten habit. Had she done the same thing when she was a human? Not for the first time, El was frustrated with her lack of memories as a reaper.

The store’s phone rang suddenly, the sharp break in the silence startling El. She quickly composed herself and crossed the room to where an old rotary phone sat on her counter. The phone probably shouldn’t still be functional, but El’s shop had enabled quite a few outdated devices to work. Perhaps she just had a soft spot for older technology. 

She picked up the phone, already knowing who was on the other end. She had given the number to Dimitri and stated that it should only be used in case of serious emergencies. ‘After all,’ she had said, ‘I could be with a customer.’ Dimitri’s face had paled at that. He was never comfortable being reminded of El’s true job.

“El,” Dimitri’s voice crackled over the line, “There’s been… a situation at the house.”

“Is it urgent?” she asked.

“Er, I believe so,” Dimitri replied, sounding sheepish. “When you get back I’ll explain.”

“I likely won’t be back until late,” she said, “Will you need to discuss it before then?”

“No, no, actually that is probably for the best. It will be easier if he is asleep when you get back so we can talk.”

El furrowed her brow, “Are you certain?”

“Yes, do not worry. I can handle it. Probably.”

“That only concerns me more.”

“No, I’ve definitely got it handled!” Dimitri said. His tone, El believed, was one of a person who was trying to convince themselves as much as others. 

El fought the urge to sigh. “I will leave it to you, then. See you this evening.” She hung up the phone and shook her head. Possible scenarios of whatever had gotten Dimitri so concerned flashed through her head, each more disastrous than the last. What had that man gotten them into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Dimitri, nearly breaking Claude's wrist: Is this holding hands?
> 
> 2) El debates for the rest of her shift whether she should bring the axe home with her
> 
> 3) At this exact moment, Byleth gets the feeling that people who should definitely never meet are about to meet. They glare at the deep fryers, as if they are responsible. Caspar is concerned.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! This story is based on the Kdrama Goblin (or Guardian: The Lonely and Great God) in case anyone is interested in the premise and would like to watch the show. If you have any questions or comments, let me know and I'll answer them all at the beginning of the next chapter! I'm a little new to the Fire Emblem fandom, so I apologize if anyone is out of character.


End file.
